The Stanford Diaries of Dean Winchester
by violaqueen93
Summary: Dean couldn't stop Sam from leaving, but that didn't mean he couldn't still watch out for his little brother. Pre-series, Dean watching over Sam at Stanford


**Disclaimer: I own nothing Supernatural related at all. **

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When Sam and Dad had started ripping into each other that fateful night, Dean knew in his gut what was bound to happen. He'd been aware that Sam had applied to Stanford, seen the acceptance letter hidden among Sam's things and knew that this would be the final straw in Dad's eyes. Dean had been taking a shower when all the shouting started. Without turning off the water to alert them of his awareness, Dean had quietly dried off and returned to the room he shared with Sam. He felt a slight twinge in his chest when he discovered Sam's bags were all packed and ready to go, but pushed the uncomfortable sensation away before pulling out his wallet and stuffing Sam's bag with wads of cash. Nothing too much to raise Sam's suspicions, but a five here or a couple of dollars there in various jacket and pants pockets that would appear to Sam as simply forgotten from an earlier time. Checking through the room one final time, he realized Sam had forgotten his toiletry bag and took the time to go and pack up his brother's bathroom essentials for him, throwing in his own nearly new tube of toothpaste to replace Sam's nearly empty one before stuffing the kit toward the bottom of Sam's duffel. Resisting the urge to place a couple of twenties in the upper pocket knowing that Sam wouldn't want or understand what he would perceive as charity, Dean stood and simply gazed around the room. There was nothing particularly special about the mildewed room they were sharing in this run down dump of a house in Middle of Nowhere, USA, but it might well be the last room he would ever share with Sam ever again. Dean felt his throat tighten but quickly shook the feeling off as the sound of glass breaking echoed from the front room. With a sigh, he backed out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him before finally switching off the shower and slowly making his way toward the screaming.

The fighting was loud and hurtful and awful and Dean just wanted them to stop, but he knew his father and brother better than that. They were so distracted by their squabbling though that Dean was able to palm Sam's wallet, placing some more money in it as well as a couple credit cards he knew were far from maxing out, and returning it before Sam noticed anything was amiss. Sam would never accept anything from he or Dad at this point, but Dean wasn't about to have Sam go hungry or not being able to have a roof over his head while he traveled to Stanford because of lack of money. Sammy wouldn't be able to get the money on his own either, having some kind of moral compunction about only earning money doing "honest work." Frankly, Dean didn't really give a damn about where room and food money came from as long as it was there. Sam had been too young at the time, but Dean still remembered the aching hunger and the wickedly cold nights spent in the Impala before Dad had figured out the main source of a hunter's income. Even after John was able to provide a roof over their heads and at least a bit of food every day, it wasn't a lot, especially in those early days, and Dean had often gone hungry making sure Sam had enough to eat. No, Sam didn't remember those struggles and Dean was determined his brother never would while he could do something about it, even if Sam never realized it.

As Dean had predicted, Dad threw Sam out of the house to which Sam replied that he was happy to do so before getting his bags and stomping out of the place, slamming the door with a chilling finality. Dean stood behind the curtains of the window and watched as Sam flagged down a passing car and got in without a single glance back, rolling off toward the interstate. John, after pacing and muttering angrily to himself for a few minutes, rounded on Dean. Dean simply stood there through John's shouted demands on why he didn't do more to stop Sam from leaving, validation on why Sam was wrong for leaving them, and simultaneous reassurance that Sam would be okay on the road by himself/ he would crash and burn without them. Seeing no good way to satisfy his father, Dean remained quiet until John had shouted himself out. With a curse, John grabbed his keys to his truck and, like Sam, stomped out of the house into his truck, roaring off down the road to what Dean assumed was the closest bar, leaving Dean standing alone.

The house, after all the crashing and shattering and shouting that had filled it just minutes before, seemed all at once oppressively silent. With nothing better to do and no motivation to do anything else, Dean lay down to try to get a few hours of sleep but couldn't relax. He found himself listening for the scratches of Dad writing in his journal or the gentle breathing of Sam sleeping, the small sounds he associated with the night, but there was nothing but an uncomfortable silence that he did his best to ignore. However, the unnerving feeling remained and bothered Dean so much that he had to get up and check all the rooms for any signs of a haunting, to which there were none. There were no spirits in the house which would normally be a good thing, but Dean felt strangely disappointed. Ghosts that were in the house he knew how to get rid of, but he had no idea how to handle the ghosts that were in his head. Unable to stand the silence a minute longer, Dean grabbed his jacket and pillow and, after scribbling a quick note to Dad, stumbled down out the back door to where the Impala was parked. Throwing open the passenger side door, he yanked off his boots and plopped down in Sam's, or what had used to be Sam's, seat, punching the pillow into a more comfortable shape. He curled up under his jacket and closed his eyes, hoping Mom, wherever she was, would look after Sam tonight.

Dean woke up several hours later to the sound of the truck pulling up behind the Impala. Not wanting to face his father right then, he remained where he was, slowly lowering his knees so they didn't peek over the top of the backrest and alert John to his presence. Once he was sure his father was inside, he exhaled and relaxed back into the leather seat. Second to Sam, he loved Dad more than anyone (except for maybe Mom), but he couldn't take more of Dad's bashing on Sam tonight. He wasn't in the mood to console Dad, to listen to more of the raging diatribe that really masked the hurt he felt at his youngest son leaving. Dean just wanted to sleep and escape the already growing ache in his chest. He had left a note, and hopefully Dad would just read it and understand and just go to bed. To his chagrin he heard the house door open again and John's footsteps crunching across the gravel toward the Impala. Dad stopped right outside the car, presumably wondering what the hell his eldest son was doing sleeping in his car instead of the house. Dean cursed under his breath. Suddenly the drivers' side door opened and Dean involuntarily tensed. Either John didn't notice or he pretended not to, simply throwing a blanket over top of Dean and making sure it covered his legs before shutting the door and walking back into the house without a word.

Pulling the blanket and jacket tighter around him, Dean took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scents of Dad's aftershave, the leather seats, and the stupid car freshener thingies that Sam had stubbornly kept hanging up on the rearview mirror. This month's scent was Royal Pines, whatever that was, and though he always complained to Sam how he hated them, right now he would have hung a hundred car fresheners to bring Sam back. He wasn't coming back though, not tonight at least, but Dean could hope. Breathing in the scents calmed him somehow, and before he knew it he was sound asleep.

They adjusted. Sort of. The morning after, Dean had walked into the house where Dad was eating breakfast and neither of them ever mentioned what had happened the night before. While John was packing up the house, Dean took the time to call Bobby and explain what had happened. Like Dean, Bobby seemed more resigned than surprised at Sam's abrupt departure and promised to call any hunters he knew in the area to shelter Sam until the semester started and to watch out for him as well. Slightly more reassured, Dean scrolled through his contact until he reached Sam's name. He stared at it for a second- what if Sam didn't answer, didn't want to talk to him? Figuring he couldn't do anything about that and he might as well get it over with, he hit the dial button.

To his surprise, Sam picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

Dean swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat. "Hey Sammy." There was nothing but silence for the longest time from the other end of the line, and Dean knew Sam was wrestling to find the right words to say. Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "Is this it then?"

Sam knew what he was talking about. Sam had left him and Dad plenty of times before, for a night, for two weeks that one time, but he always came back. Dean knew Sam had been aching to get out since he was old enough to even conceive the possibility that his life could be more than hunting, but he always came back. Something was different about this time though, something that smacked of finality, and Dean wasn't sure what that meant, or necessarily even wanted to think about what that meant.

A sigh crackled from Sam's end. "Yea Dean, this is it." Each word felt like a blow to the chest to Dean. Almost as if he could sense his brother's discomfort, Sam hurriedly talked into the phone. "Listen man, I was thinking, what if you came with me huh? You know, we could get an apartment in Stanford together, I'd go to classes, I'm sure there's a garage where you could get work at and who knows maybe you could-"

"Sam stop." Dean cut Sam's anxious ramblings off before they became too tempting to resist. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to jump in the Impala and go pick up Sammy, wherever he was, and do everything Sam had just laid out in front of him. But he couldn't. Dad, the job…they were the priority for him, there was really no other choice. The words were quiet coming from his lips. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"You know why Sam."

"No I don't know Dean!" Sam shouted through the phone. Dean winced and held the phone away from his ear. "I don't know why you are so devoted to Dad, why you blindly follow his every order. I mean, don't you get tired of it all? He's insane, he's so obsessed with hunting he doesn't even care about us don't you see? He's-"

"He's our family Sam, and at least he's never abandoned me!" Dean regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. He could picture Sam's face changing as the hurtful words struck home and cursed himself. He softened his tone as much as he was able to. "Sammy I'm sorry. Listen, I called Bobby, caught him up to speed on everything. There are a couple hunters in the Stanford area that'll let you crash on their couch until you get your own place and"

Sam cut him off, his voice icy. "I can take care of myself Dean, thanks. I'll talk to you later."

The phone line abruptly went dead. Dean closed his eyes. "I know you can Sam."


End file.
